Raystealer
by roguerogue
Summary: Ongoing story. M for violence
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Liability

Fall

The blood elf female was barely an adult.

No, she was fully an adult, and barely seemed to recognize the fact herself. Her mind lapsed so far behind with regards to how she should properly conduct herself by now, and her reckless disregard to actually knowing better finally caught up. A few months prior to today, she told herself that she would take advantage of some goblins' immense intelligence and near-minuscule degree of sensibility.

"Counterfeit," she whispered from across the table, the chair she was sitting in seeming to loom over the girl and threatening collapse around her at any moment given the sheer stupidity of this new project of hers. The glow in her eyes was dim at best, and given the poor lighting provided by one quickly-dying candle, did nothing to make her appear less moronic for ever thinking this would lead anywhere except _towards_ trouble. Her naturally darker skin tone aided her in melding in with the shadows, though. It almost seemed natural that given the tight, black leather outfit she was wearing and the two sword strapped securely along her belt, she would be affiliated with such a dingy, ill-kept tavern such as Ratchet's. And yet, she thought she simply did not belong, and was swooping in to stick it to some stupid outlaws. In her head, she was simply testing the waters; simply playing.

Awkward.

Her hair was short, then, and flowed freely, albeit neatly to closely frame her slightly round face. She had a wry, arrogant smirk on her not-even-slightly-puffy-lips, and had it not been for the absence of a generous coating of crimson on her nose, cheeks, and tips of her ears, she would have been mistaken for being drunk. But she knew better than to drink while on business. This Blood Elf didn't seem to quite get over living in irony just yet. If her scrawny frame did anything, it was, perhaps, aiding her in appearing wicked. At least. _No one would dismiss a smirking Blood Elf, that's simply unheard of_. She _is_ a good bluffer, to be fair.

"That's a dangerous topic to discuss, Legs, is this why you wanted to set up a meeting this late? I need my beauty rest, ya know," the goblin chuckled, his voice shrill, even careless, except that his undersized eyes were staring into the rogue's ever so closely. Oh, he was interested.

She beamed at him, relaxing back against the chair which seemed to grow more uncomfortable if only to haver her shut. Her. _Face_. "It's also very lucrative, wouldn't you agree?" She absently reached down to grab a poorly wrapped cigarette from her pouch, letting out an amused, spontaneous giggle when one of the goblins sitting behind the one facing her flinched. Delicious. The rogue pulled out the cigarette, and gave it a playful wiggle, then used the same hand to wipe the tip of her nose gingerly. Perhaps she enjoyed danger. Or maybe she really was only a moron. She didn't care. She trusted her skills. Her legs were both tucked beneath her, making for quite the sight: A slouching, smirking, and now soon to be smoking Blood Elf sitting cross-legged and conducting business with goblins late at night... Her sister would have a heart-attack. _Little_ sister. What did _she_ know? ...Actually, it's best that she doesn't know anything for now. "And why not?" she canted her head to the right, her smile softening instinctively while willing him to bite.

"I wouldn't know where one would begin humoring such an illegal activity." he seethed, smirking. The spark in his eyes seemed to be ignited, like hers, by the audacity of trying to pull off such a move.

She slouched forwards, holding the cigarette over the dying candle and allowed the fire to infest the tobacco. She pulled it back towards her mouth to seal her lips around it and take a short, hard drag. Her small shoulders fell as she exhaled through the nose, ever-fascinated by how the smoke always came out her nose in such a rushed, explosive way. Almost funny, "Winterspring?"

Needless to say, the _absolutely_ moronic rogue ended up being caught trying to make off with the counterfeit coins early one morning...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Capture

Fall

The rogue lay in a bloodied pile at the corner of the dark room, the only light coming from a small crack along the top part of the wall sealing the small space from the outside. It was morning. The room was cold, and had only her in it. It was a cell of sorts, the only door being composed of some aged steel bars bound together by a thick slab of wood. There was no lock on it, only an even thicker wooden slab heavily sealing the door shut by its sheer weight. There was no light coming from the other side of the makeshift door.

The Blood Elf was discovered attempting to run off with the counterfeit coins that she and the goblins spent a solid month trying to make, then planning to resell. It was early morning, and the girl had decided it would be the most opportune time to attempt a clean get away with the coins on her own, especially since she spent the night making sure the goblins would overfeed themselves, and drink the most volatile available. A small celebration was due, their project, apparently a success. They agreed that later the next day they would evenly divide the false coins and part ways. But she became greedy-or maybe slightly suicidal, and thinking she hid it well. She shared some laughs and some quite unladylike jokes and stories with the goblins-at least all of hers were made up, then announced her plans to head to bed, saying that the reek of goblins made her light-headed, and that it didn't quite sit well with her stomach, that she wanted to be able to live to see the next day.

Fall Raystealer was asleep in her top bunk. It was a small, dingy room she shared with two other goblins for the duration of that month. She made it painfully obvious to one of them that she did not quite care about how he would need to sleep on the ground, nor about the fact that he wouldn't take much space. The fact that he was green as repulsive, and that there was another one of him to share the room with was offensive enough. She was willing to see her business venture through, but not to come into physical contact with a goblin if she could help it.

When she felt the hours of morning slowly ease away those of the night, the girl dropped down from her bunk silently. Her equipment and bags were hidden in the stables since the night before, when she finally decided she would go ahead with such an unwise plan. She tenderly ran her fingers through her black hair, now long enough to brush against her frail shoulders, in an effort to soothe herself before moving out. Her faded eyes browsed the small room silently as she tiptoed out, the ridiculous, sorry excuse for a door creaking sharply as she opened it. The goblins she shared the room with did not flinch, and responded only with some labored groans, their gluttony, justified by their excitement and her subtle planning was making the food in their stomachs weigh them down in the realms of sleep.

The rogue found the weighty trunk containing the counterfeit coins in the main building of the small compound, opened it, and lifted the bag containing the physical realization of meticulous planning, that, if brought to light, will land her in plenty of trouble, and sprinted out lightly to the stables, the small sack clutched tightly in her long fingers to retrieve her green hawkstrider. Number Two.

She was met with a sharp, unaccommodating jab to the small of her back with something hard, and heavy when she thought she was home free, only two feet away from the stables. She dropped to her knees, the hit easily being knocking out of her lungs if only from the shock. She was soon fed an unceremonious kick to the face, leaving her sluggish and on her side, her face showing genuine surprise. She was _certain_ this would go well. Fall could hear some angry yelling, which she couldn't even process thanks to a second kick to the face. Then it went black. Like it always does.

Now, in her cell, her eyes began to open, accompanied by a low, pained groan. Fall sniffled, and sealed her eyes shut at the immense pain shooting through her nose, and the sure taste of blood trickling down her throat along with what was in her runny nose. Was she crying? She tried to sit up, only managing to roll on her back and force out a frustrated sob, the pain in her back doing a sure job of keeping her on the floor without the need for restraints. Her hands slowly met the cool floor palm-first, and began feeling the surface patiently, while her eyes began to open, vision suddenly blurred in her right with a thick, warm tear that made its sole duty to startle her and then run down the side of her face and into her hair.

She lay on her back in silence, the goblins not even granting her the dignity of assigning the guard at the door. "My nose hurts," she croaked to herself, knowing she was left alone for now, "I better not be disfigured."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Resilience

Vinae

Vinae Raystealer, Fall's younger sister, successfully spent an entire weekend in the library yet again. It has been at least three months since her older sister wrote, or even visited. Their minimal interactions were understandable, however, since Vinae worked tirelessly looking through volumes of books to retrieve information for her superior, an obnoxious, overpowered Magister whose name is of no relevance to this tale. Her sister is a notoriously troublesome rogue who took any, if not all contracts, which left her with a less than stellar reputation as just another gold-hungry rogue with no status worth contemplating in Silvermoon. Vinae was a Magister's assistant. Protocol dictates that she not associate with a lowly rogue, not even if it was her sister, not if she wanted her life to remain hassle-free, or if she wanted nobility to avoid picking her as a source of amusement.

When she wasn't looking up information requested by the drunkard, she fed her starving curiosity by reading though book after book, regarding information about Outlands, and the ever-increasing volume of intelligence gathered about the lich and their king in Northrend. Her clearance only allowed her to study the volumes focusing on actually analyzing certain locations, their terrain, the native inhabitants: animal, lich, and humanoid. In any case, Fall never disappeared for more than two months at a time, and naturally, the vastly more rational younger sister began to worry. Vinae wondered about whether Fall had finally crossed the wrong oaf, or simply fell off the world somewhere; in any case, she knew better than to think she had any pull or say when it came to actually finding her sister. She was bound to her duty, was never really granted any vacation or time off, let alone for one day a week. It suited her just fine, this schedule, because in all fairness, she was a massive nerd and found that time in the library was time better spent than running around chasing gold. Her pay was minimal, but easily overlapped her living expenses, and she was allowed to learn about a world beyond Silvermoon, one she would have had no business experiencing unless she wanted to bear arms-she didn't.

Given her basic knowledge about magic, she was able to cast spells from both the ice, and fire schools, but only seemed to excel in the arcane. That suited her just fine. Portals were more her thing, and after months of relentless studying, while the war was being fought in the Outlands, she was able to memorize the precise, specific incantations to open portals to locations she may not have necessarily visited before. ...But she never took her own portals. There was simply no time to go leaping through portals when punishment for not retrieving some information was a docking of her pay, and a derogatory comment about how such a lowly position that she only managed to get (through the pulling of many strings) was wasted on a stupid commoner. And now, given Fall's extended disappearance, Vinae took to combing through massive volumes of knowledge explaining portals. She had read these volumes before, and could swear she stumbled upon a small sentence half-heartedly hinting at the ability to not only open portals to specific locations, but to open portals to specific individuals. Long shot. She was hoping she didn't imagine it. But she needed to at least figure out why her sister decided it would be a good idea to go missing for months at a time, find her, break her legs, then give her a hug.


End file.
